


(Love is) Running Wild Feeling Free

by redcurlzbychoice



Series: (From the Earth below to the Heavens above) That‘s how Far and Funny is Love [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And what‘s hidden behind, Aziraphale‘s bowtie, Aziraphale’s Neck unveiled, Crowley‘s London Flat, Declarations Of Love, First Time, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, Longing, Lots of kissing, Lots of sensuousness, Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Neck Kissing, Scene: The Bus Ride (Good Omens), Strong Aziraphale (Good Omens), The Other Sketch By DaVinci, Uplifted Crowley, lots of fluff, tight embraces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21922159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcurlzbychoice/pseuds/redcurlzbychoice
Summary: Crowley tasted a last trickle of honey and cream cheese on these lips, on these soft, feverish, luscious lips that he‘d been dreaming of for millennia.And with a feeling that nearly ripped his heart apart Crowley realised the sweetness of these lips was not brought on by the honey, but was Aziraphale‘s own sweet taste, his own essence.And Crowley leaned in to indulge in this treat, to get lost in it. He nipped at these lips, cherished their sweet sizzling taste, felt them, explored them, gave himself over to and let himself be seized by these lips.These burning hot holy soft lips.———————Finally, after six millennia and eight decades of longing:Savouring their first kiss(es)!Also, a couple of revelations on hidden treasures behind art, the shedding of an ever present  bowtie and of course lots of affection and love. And then there‘s a bed with a special spread...———————
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: (From the Earth below to the Heavens above) That‘s how Far and Funny is Love [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535789
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	(Love is) Running Wild Feeling Free

**Author's Note:**

> Part 5 of yet another author’s venture on that bus scene post-Armageddon and what will follow...  
> Titles by courtesy of the unrivalled Mr. Freddie Mercury. May he party in peace.

  
  


So soft.

As Crowley was leaning into the kiss a trembling sigh left his body when for the first time his and Aziraphale‘s lips touched.

So soft, so ... wholly holy soft.

And - hot. So hot.

Obviously, both of them had been wondering for many hours and days (in regards to one of them it amounted to rather centuries) what kissing the other might feel like.

What they‘d both figured was that it would burn in some kind of way, as Angel (the holiest) touching Demon (evil to the core - in Crowley’s case though to a point pretty near the surface) surely would have a hint of touching holy water or hellfire respectively.

And it was ardent, oh, yeah, their lips were aflame, but it made Crowley feel lit up and enlightened, not at all scorched or burnt. He felt more alive than ever before (at least since the Fall), blazing up with want to be with his Angel. Melt into his Angel. And it seemed his Angel felt the same.

For from somewhere far off Crowley realised Aziraphale had cupped his head and pulled his face nearer to his own, nearer to his lips.

These burning hot holy soft lips.

From somewhere a bit nearer Crowley tasted a last trickle of honey and cream cheese on these lips, on these soft, feverish, luscious lips that he‘d been dreaming of for millennia.

And with a feeling that nearly ripped his heart apart Crowley realised the sweetness of these lips was not brought on by the honey, but was Aziraphale‘s own sweet taste, his own essence.

And Crowley leaned in to indulge in this treat, to get lost in it. He nipped at these lips, cherished their sweet sizzling taste, felt them, explored them, gave himself over to and let himself be seized by these lips.

He felt Aziraphale‘s lips probing his, tasting him, too. (Of course, his Angel loves to indulge in delicacies, always did, and now Crowley is his choice delicacy, oh, it makes his head and heart spin...)

With tangible relish Aziraphale savoured the texture and flavour of his Demon’s mouth as if he were a beautiful tarte Tatin, a succulent steak, a Premier Cru of Bordeaux, leisurely taking in his taste, lingering on the flavours, humming soft sounds of delight (oh, these sounds, coming from those lips, and he‘s the reason, isn‘t his head besotted enough already?). Crowley offered himself freely, serving his lips and skin and soul to his Angel to appease his hunger and thirst.

For Aziraphale pulled his demon in even tighter, and Crowley felt the hunger and the want in his Angel‘s kiss. He answered eagerly in nipping at Aziraphale’s lower lip, his upper lip, his philtrum, and his own lips fit so perfectly into this clear cut groove above his Angel‘s lips, he suddenly realised why the greeks did name it such, love charm. His mouth opened to breathe out a sound of wonder and astonishment, and there, oh, so much like velvet, he felt a tongue slither over the threshold of the angel‘s (his Angel‘s!) lips.

Crowley had seen his Angel‘s tongue often before, licking his lips, to take in that last flicker of taste when they were out for dinner, or sharing a few bottles of wine, but even in his most reckless flights of fancy he had never really dared to dream of Aziraphale tasting and licking his mouth with this rosy, delicate tongue. Crowley had heard this tongue drip with silvery words, with mostly pointed and sometimes infuriatingly silly arguments, and now he felt this adorable tongue taking its premiere stroll on his own lips, and it sent glowing red sparks down his spine and up to the tips of his ember hair, to the tips of his fingers that were still clutching at the edge of the table for support, making them itch from want to sink into Aziraphale‘s soft curls, into his soft skin.

Crowley couldn‘t stop another sigh breaking from his chest, waiting to free itself for thousands of years, and with the sound his lips opened up this little further to bare his own timid tongue, on a quest for its holy companion.

When they merged at last, a firework lit up their nerves. They had to pull apart for a moment, this was just too hot to bear.

„Oh, my dearest!“ panted Aziraphale, „this is something beyond expectation, don’t you think so, my dear,“ while his gaze absorbed the sight of this beatific demon.

„Hmmh? Yeah. Much better than anything I ever, didn’t you?“ Crowley, still sprawled all over the tabletop, slithered around and in the same smooth movement shoved the plates with his Angels earthly delights to the side (carefully, Aziraphale might return his attention to them any moment, given the course of the night), and with a glittering smile in his eyes finally came to sit on the edge of the massive kitchen table, his long legs allocated to enframe Aziraphale‘s body on the chair, that by a coincident miracle grew wider to accommodate for Crowley’s feet. These very feet eagerly jumped at the opportunity for a subtle change from their usual style of snakeskin boots to bare humanoid skin and en passant also found they would fit just so perfectly between the seat and Aziraphale‘s soft thighs.

Crowley eyes closed for one beat of his heart, absorbed in his Angel’s warmth seeping into his now naked feet and up his legs, into his abdomen and straight into his heart. He reached out his hands to enframe Aziraphale’s face, too, bending his head ever so softly back, to run his long fingers through soft white golden curls, to trace his Angel’s eyebrows with his thumbs.

Marveling at him from above, Crowley got lost in Aziraphale’s gaze, his expressive angelic features lit up with glee, so clearly rejoicing the embrace of Crowley’s legs and hands, and not caring to try and hide anymore the passion and want underneath.

„My love, I’m quite definitely not talking about how - hot your kisses are. That I was expecting, indeed, in any meaning of the word,“ Aziraphale proclaimed, still panting softly. (Oh, how adorably his Angel could blush!) „It‘s your tongue, and ... How DID you do what you just did?“

„Try again?“

Crowley, beaming down on Aziraphale’s face with eyes reflecting their sparkles of passionate want, dived in for another kiss, and Aziraphale, hands buried in Crowley‘s hair, pulled him further down, and when their lips touched again, it was more than a „yes“, it was ardent affirmation of „I do. I want. From now on, forever.“

This time there was no leisurely lingering, no slow exploration anymore. Their lips opened with the same breath, and Aziraphale extended a vibrant welcome to Crowley’s tongue, gasping as Crowley coiled himself around him. Arms and legs on the outside, and in the depth of their kiss tongue twined with tongue. Crowley wreathed himself around Aziraphale, how could this be just so fucking amazing how their mouths and bodies fit so perfectly into another. Reverently Crowley continued to explore his Angel‘s mouth, eliciting sighs andmoans, as he immersed himself fully, with body and soul, into the velvety darkness of Aziraphale‘s soft mouth.

Aziraphale kissed him back, eagerly, no restrains anymore, their tongues twisting, meddling, playfully teasing each other, getting used to the heat of their kiss, like getting used to very spicy food. First there had been nothing but needy heat, nearly too strong to bear, even for them, especially for them, but now they indulged in the finer aromas, the more delicate flavours, the subtle zest of their love and want and need for each other.

It was Aziraphale who broke loose from their kiss first, leaving Crowley panting, biting his blissfully swollen lower lip and licking his upper one with his dextrous tongue to regain composure.

Yet Aziraphale wouldn’t let go of Crowley, his fingers still cupping his head. The angel pulled himself up, until he’d be standing right in front of Crowley, his body still embraced by his Demon’s long legs, his face now nearly abreast with Crowley’s.

The angel‘s gaze, at first locked into Crowley’s, now slowly caressed his Demons face, every feature one by one. The angel’s fingers followed his eyes, taking in and caressing the demon‘s eyebrows, his laugh lines. With a happy giggle Aziraphale blew a kiss to the tip of this lovely, thin nose of his stunned Demon, and with a wondrous, enchanted smile the angel traced his ears, caressed his temples. He skimmed Crowley’s snake tatoo with the faintest touch of his fingertips, expecting another blow, but it were only tickly sparkles he felt, and again he started to laugh out of pure happiness, but stopped because he saw and felt his Demon writhe, as the touch of a holy angel at this most recognisable sign of Crowley being a demon and a snake sent shivers through his infernal body.

Crowley was not in pain, though, Aziraphale could read clearly in his face, in his golden wide-eyed gaze. There was ache in Crowley’s eyes, indeed, but only because this disheartened demon had just had his heart touched by the pure loving soul of an angel whose love he had craved since the dawn of time, and being loved again brought up memories that were nearly too much to bear. Aziraphale bent forward and his lips blew a kiss onto the sigil as he breathed „I love you, Crowley. For what you are, have been, and will be. I love you.“

Another unearthly sound soared up from the depth of Crowley’s heart and over his lips, and this time the demon felt truly broken. But it were the restraints and the fear and the anguish that broke, and in between the smithers Crowley could at last feel this angel‘s love reaching out for him, touching his broken soul to condone and to mend.

The demon moaned and buried his face to his Angel‘s neck and there were no words, just a sob. And Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, lifted up his Demon in his soft strong arms, lifted him up from the table and held him tight, slowly spinning around, while Crowley, Serpent of Eden, curled around his Angel and sobbed the most jubilant tears, tears only requited love can yield.

They stayed like this, intertwined, while Aziraphale softly hummed a love song with Crowley’s name as the only lyrics over his sigil, while Crowley’s breathing eased slowly.

When Crowley lifted up his head, Aziraphale beamed at him with the most gleeful smile that put Crowley’s stylish kitchen lights to shame. Suddenly another sound broke over the demon’s lips. This time it was a laugh, though, a laugh to match Aziraphale‘s, in happiness and love, and still held by his Angel Crowley again delved into kissing Aziraphale all over, his eyes, his cheeks, his ears, this adorable snubbly nose, along his so delicately grooved love charm to the Cupid’s Bow of his lips, these lush lips, even more succulent now after all their kissing. And Aziraphale joined in the laugh, and joined in the kiss, still holding Crowley in his arms, while Crowley‘s long thin legs and bare feet curled around his thighs, Crowley’s endless arms embraced his frame, Crowley‘s lips fondled his, Crowley‘s tongue did again the most astonishing wonderful weird things while cuddling up to the angel‘s.

Now they were truly frolicking, reveling this kiss, these kisses, laughing at noses bumping at another, brushing the tips of these noses on purpose, tilting their heads to make their foreheads meet, stealing sparkling breaths from each other while nipping at their lips again and again. They nipped and they sucked and they gasped, and in between they laughed and they beamed at each other, and only when Crowley longed to trace his Angel’s Cupid’s Bow with his long fingers and not only his tongue he noticed that „Are you - is that - Aziraphale? Have you - me - in your arms?“

Bedazzled he grasped only now how truly uplifted he was in Aziraphale‘s arms.

„Mmh, it does seem to quite appear that way, dearest,“ said the angel airily, and Crowley could hardly hear nor comprehend, because Aziraphale was still very much preoccupied with nuzzling at his Demon’s ear with his lips.

„I never - you’re so - strong - angel?“ Crowley had gotten a little fidgety, it would be a vast understatement to call it only an eternity since the demon had been carried in the arms of _any_ entity.

„Oh, Crowley, dear,“ and Crowley observed in awe that this astounding angel was truly capable of tutting and kissing at the same time,„It‘s not like I haven’t been made a Guardian Angel for no reasons, really!“ And he proceeded to leisurely kiss Crowley’s keen jawbone, still holding Crowley tightly in his arms, to stop only when his lips had once more reached Crowley’s. Aziraphale chuckled in the most endearing way, and at last let down his fidgeting Demon.

„Crowley dear, I think I recall you mentioning another work by Signor Da Vinci earlier this evening? I do seem to remember you offered to introduce me to it, didn’t you?“

„Eeeh, WHATT?“ Crowley spluttered once more, his head still spinning from all these kisses and being lift up by his Angel’s magnificent strong arms. He couldn’t think straight anymore, let alone grasp why his Angel again was meandering from this seemingly straight path of mutual delights. The dire remainder of his brain was still occupied with remembering how these vigorous arms had held him so tight just a minute ago, and Crowley suddenly longed to curl around his Angel once more, to be upheaved by him and become ablaze in these strong gentle arms.

„Crowley, the Da Vinci? You still are keen to show it to me?“

Crowley heard his Angel‘s voice seeping into his ears and disenchantment stirred up in his heart. Obviously he did look like it, and Aziraphale now for all hell‘s glory started to genuinely chuckle at him.

„Oh, my dearest demon, I‘d _love_ to see your other Da Vici now, you really don’t want to show it to me?“

„Yeah, fine, if it pleases you,“ Crowley managed to utter, dazed and hurt. To add in a mumble„I’d rather go on kissing, Angel, thou - _**OH!** _\- The Da Vinci? In my -“

His eyes stared wide and serpentine at this cheeky angel.

„Bedroom. Yes, indeed. That’s the one I‘d love to see.“

The glee in Aziraphale‘s sky blue eyes made Crowley’s insides tumble all over in some very undemonic somersaults.

„You want to come and see my - bedroom?“ he asked, still incredulous.

„Yes, I do think I said so more than once by now.“ Aziraphale still chuckled a smile at him.

„You sure? No more food? I mean, there‘s still plenty more in the fridge, if you want, y’ know,“ Crowley asked, just to make sure he didn’t get his Angel wrong. Right now, with his heart flipping over in a triple salto, he surely wasn’t to go any fraction faster than Aziraphale was willing to go himself.

„Crowley, my dearest,“ Aziraphale replied cheerfully, and in the angel’s anticipating smile Crowley could clearly hear a reverberation of ‚How can somebody as clever as you be so slow-witted?‘, „I think I told you, did I not, that now it _is_ time for dessert.“

All Crowley could do was blink. His heart flared up with ache to lean into his Angel’s touch once more and be thoroughly consumed by his love, yet again he couldn’t move any single part of his body. His fingers itched with the want to reach up to his Angel‘s face and neck, to devote himself to his everpresent bowtie, to bare this so delicate piece of skin at his throat that the angel had been hiding from him since Arthur’s time. To bare the skin there and then ...

„Crowley? Dearest?“ Aziraphale broke into his reverie.

„Ehh, yeah, right. I was just .... Yeah, yes, got y’. Dessert.“ His perplexed gaze must have been worrying Aziraphale, for the angel reached out and cupped his cheeks again, caressing his sharp angles with his soft fingers.

„Crowley, are you...? Is that allright....?“

„If it‘s allright with me? Angel!“ He tried to regain his senses, while searching his Angel‘s eyes. There was the same adamantine sheen Aziraphale had already expressed earlier that night. Which hadn’t stopped the Angel though from backing down time after time.

„There‘s nothing in the whole universe I could wish for more,“ Crowley heard himself confess. „No, Angel, that‘s not what I meant. I ... I want - I long for your love. But only as much as you are willing to give. To me. Freely. Aziraphale, do you really want ... me? All of me? You sure?“ (Oh, wretched demon he was, why did his voice sound so pleadingly all of a sudden?)

„Oh my beloved daft caring Crowley, yes! I _do_ want you!“ he instantly was beamed back at. „All of you that _you_ are willing to give to me!“ And to prove this point Crowley felt himself once more being lifted up in his Angel’s arms. „Now, tell me, dear, where is this bedroom of yours?“ Aziraphale asked cheerfully without further elaboration. (What a blessed bastard this angel proved to be.)

„Statue. Then left,“ Crowley barely managed to whisper as he blissfully curled himself around his Angel‘s body again and let himself old-fashionedly be carried all the way through his flat, past his enthusiastically rustling plants (who were granted a broad smile and exploded with new multicoloured blossoms), past that statue (where Aziraphale seemed to pause for just that fraction of time and mutter under his breath something in the like of „ah, right, jolly good, indeed“), while Crowley planted kisses and sighs all over Aziraphale‘s face and neck.

At the door to his bedroom Crowley clumsily reached for the handle himself, pressed it down („I got to do that, extra security, see?“), and thus they tumbled quite ungracefully into the room and onto a huge bed in the middle of it, both laughing happily and all of a sudden somewhat nervously, too.

Aziraphale searched for Crowley’s eyes, panting slightly (from the effort of taking up his love or from anticipation, Crowley didn‘t dare to ponder), and giggling oh so charmingly, and then curiosity took over and his gaze skimmed the room. Yet there was not much to see, the bedroom being as dark and bare as Crowley’s other rooms. Stylish but cold. Except for a huge painting to the right of the bed, a sketch rather, in a heavy golden frame, depicting a lifesize man‘s body, with arms and legs spread out wide, surrounded by the Squaring The Circle, naked except for a cloth covering a very center part of the lean body.

„I’ll be jiggered! So that’s your other Leonardo!“ Aziraphale exclaimed (maybe exaggerating mildly for the momentary distraction it provided from being in a dither all of a sudden). And taking a closer look on the delicately chiselled body and the face below a wild mane of hair, he whispered with enthralledly raised eyebrows, „Crowley, now, is that _you_?“

„Yeah, well, I happened to hang around in Milano when he took the measurements. Was a fun day, really.“ Crowley fluttered, also not able to subdue his own swift nervousness.

„Now, I did think the Vitruvian Man was supposed to - envisage the workings of the human body as an anology for the workings of the universe, wasn’t it?“ Aziraphale said in his most bookish way with cheeks glowing bright, seemingly caught up in not purely academic reflections upon Crowley’s nature and body. „But isn’t the groin supposed to be the center of the square? Shouldn’t one be able to see where...?“

„Ah, now, come off it, you sweet cheeky nitpicker of an angel! Who wants to stare at their own genitalia when you simply come in for a nice nap, eh?“ Crowley started to laugh mockingly, got up and offered his hand to his Angel. All of a sudden his tone changed and the crooked smile sneaked back onto his lips, while his eyes looked more fragile than ever before. „Well, it does hide something - hopefully equally - eh, enjoyable for you. Wanna see?“

Instead of an answer Aziraphale not only took his hand to be lifted up but snuggled himself to Crowley’s chest and embraced his Demon’s frame closely. While his hands caressed Crowley’s back he professed gently to Crowley’s chest „I would like to see everything you want to show me tonight, dearest.“

„Angel!“ quivered the demon. „Oh, Angel!“ He looked down into Aziraphale‘s curls, swaying softly, into these white blond curls emitting this intoxicating balm and his own hands slithered over his Angel’s coat, to his lapels, found their way underneath and ever so slowly helped the waistcoat to slide off Aziraphale‘s shoulders and arms, until it lay prostrate before their feet.

Aziraphale loosened his embrace only to enable the fabric to sink downwards and then leaned even more into Crowley’s arms, both clearly rejoicing in the subtle increase of perceptible body heat. Their palms cherished the feel of freely caressing their frames, and their lips yearned for another kiss, when Crowley with all his will jerked back his head and rasped, „I really wanted to show you this, Angel, before we ...“

„Ah, indeed, then you‘d better show me swiftly, dear, otherwise ...,“ signified the angel in playfully opening up the top button of Crowley’s vest.

„Really, Angel. Just wanna make the bed a bit more comfortable for you. Us.“

„You do? Seems splendidly soft enough for me,“ and the angel opened up two more buttons.

„Oh, I hope you‘ll care, pretty sure you‘ll care about this,“ said Crowley hoarsely and pressed the fingertips of a freed hand to the frame of the painting.

The frame swung to the side and revealed a safe, of the same nuclear-industry-security-level type as the one behind the Mona Lisa.

„Oh,“ said the angel and indeed got a bit distracted from the buttons and the contents of said vest.

Crowley opened the safe‘s door, using a complicated combination of digits and letters on a touch screen (actually it was very simple to remember for him as it was a combination of dates and places where they had met, and thus absolutely unthinkable for any other demonic or angelic force to hack). The heavy steel door opened to reveal a large wardrobe, rather the size of a small boudoir.

„Oh!“ mouthed Aziraphale. „Oh, Crowley!“ He let go of the buttons and was drawn into the small room, his eyes glued to shelves stacked with books, records, parchment rolls and knickknacks testifying to six millennia of affection and longing.

„Crowley, this is ...! All these books! Shakespeare! Ms Heyer! Since when ...? And... is that an oyster shell?? ... Feathers? Long white feathers? Where did you ...? ... Oh, that‘s where my throw pillow went in 1823! ...Oh, Crowley!“ Aziraphale turned to face his blushing demon, whose gaze was self-consciously flickering from Aziraphale‘s face to his still bare feet and back up again, because the light Aziraphale was flaring up proved to be too much to bear for his uncovered eyes. „Crowley! Now, did you really...!“

Crowley slouched at the door and shrugged his shoulders. „’s nothing really, just a couple of keepsakes over the years,“ his voice failed utterly at nonchalant. He pushed himself forward and reached for a neatly folded fabric and some pillows on one of the upper shelves, threw them onto the bed and spread out the bedcover.

„Tartan! Is that _my_ tartan pattern, you incredible being?“

„Ah, well, it was on the thermos you gave me, see, so could have it custom-made. I just - ah, liked the feel of it. Really soft. Lambs wool. Cosier than the black spreads. Gave me...“ the crooked smile turned a bit cheekish, „lovely dreams of what I liked best.“

„Crowley!“ Aziraphale‘s heart, already overflowing with affection, burst forth with the urge to bathe in Crowley’s millennia-old devotion, and to shower Crowley with his own praise.

„You impossible,“ Aziraphale let himself be embraced by these gentle long arms, „lovable,“ his lips caressed the bare skin of Crowley’s throat, „incredible being!“ His eyes found Crowley‘s. „I‘m so sorry I didn’t acknowledge your, and mine, - our love earlier. I‘m so sorry I - we missed so much. I‘m so sorry ...“

„Shut up, Angel.“ Crowley‘s eyes glimmered with an amount of love and joy he couldn’t recount ever feeling on this world before. „You’re here now. That’s all that matters to me.“

His fingers slowly traveled upwards to caress Aziraphale‘s cheeks, and then downwards again to rest on his Angel‘s bowtie. His questioning eyes were answered with Aziraphale‘s soft fingers tickling the remaining buttons on his vest, which opened freely with a shiver of his skin.

Crowley closed his eyes and gave himself over to the touch of these fingers. His own started to tug and pluck gently at the tartan fabric enclosing Aziraphale‘s throat. He softly pulled the ribbon out from under the pale blue collar, and staggered in the whiff of Aziraphalic fragrance he instantly was enveloped in.

„Angel!“ he breathed, while Aziraphale’s hands likewise occupied themselves in purposefully tugging his black shirt from the tight waistband. With quivering fingers Crowley set to open up the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt, one by one, until finally unveiling this soft, this delicate, this oh so enrapturing skin of his neck.

„Angel!“ he breathed again, and felt his Angel trembling, his fingers clasping into Crowley’s waist for support and indulgence.

„Angel!“ He married his lips to this skin, to his Angel‘s breath, to his Love‘s vital heat.

He bathed in his Angel‘s aroma, willing to drown himself in this overwhelming scent he had so longed to get lost in for millennia, since he had sensed it for the first time when leaning in to the shelter this astounding Angel provided for him on that wall, all those years ago. He had been done for, he‘d known right that moment, deep in his demonic heart, and he had never faltered.

He was done for, right now, more then ever, he knew for sure, as his lips explored Aziraphale‘s throat, his crook of neck. He willed more buttons open, seized this jugulum he hadn’t been able to forget for two thousand years, and was rewarded by Aziraphale’s gentle gasps and soft hands researching into his abdomen and chest.

With hungry lips Crowley swept the skin he‘d only had a chance to glance at when Aziraphale had awaited him in the Bentley, so flustered he‘d had to loosen his collar for the first time in centuries, before handing over the thermos and fleeing the car, leaving Crowley blank and deranged.

Aziraphale‘s restraints had long since capitulated to Crowley’s hands and mouth, as the besotted demon claimed his Love‘s neck, his jugulum, his collar bones. Buttons opened freely, and lips and hands followed suit, covering every unveiled inch of skin in kisses, speaking praises on their delicacy, singing hymns of devotion to their love.

Their bodies melted into the other‘s gentle touch, layers of fabric vanishing one by one with the help of deft hands and an occasional minor miracle.

They truly found each other, finally, their souls and bodies reaching out for and being welcomed by their counterpart.

They kissed and they caressed and suddenly they broke apart, both panting heavily, shaken to their cores, because this wasn‘t just their hot lips and fervent skin touching anymore, but an urge to blend into each other, merge their innermost, combine their souls to become more than just two beings _in_ love, but one being _of_ love, whole again at last after being torn apart since millennia.

As one they sank onto the tartan spread and savoured their own recitation of The Song of Songs. Beloved they reentered their own garden, and their fruit was sweet to their taste, and so much better than wine was their love, as their bodies and souls concelebrated a mass of devotion.

„Love me!“ He begged, and it didn‘t matter who had said so. „Love me, for I love you.“

„I do. I will.“ He was answered, reassured, upraised. „Tonight more than ever.“

  
  


.

**Author's Note:**

> OMG, this took so long. So Sorry to anybody out there for the long wait. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> As always, kudos (and comments) would brighten up my day. 


End file.
